


Bend and Break

by alienexe



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: It's the 80's, M/M, crowley's still bitter about the soho holy water thing, please indulge me i listened to too much synthwave before this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 14:10:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19336111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alienexe/pseuds/alienexe
Summary: Crowley finally had some peace and quiet. But it wasn't necessarily a good thing.





	Bend and Break

**Author's Note:**

> okay this is my obligatory "trying to get the feel of things" fic. hope you enjoy!
> 
> complete with a mini playlist:  
> the song that plays on the record player [[ x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1G6SuujVCtk)]  
> song that inspired me to write this fic in the first place [[x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WifFehLrqoA)]  
> song this fic gets its title from [[x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5cw5nlzbzLk)]

Crowley had always had a bit of a lead foot. If Aziraphale had been next to him he would have whiteknuckled the armrest and muttered obscenities under his breath. But Aziraphale wasn’t here. So he was spared. He could put the radio on blast all he wanted and not have to hear about it.

But he also had nobody to talk to either. He didn’t like the quiet. Specifically the brand of quiet where he had to blast the radio in order to not get trapped in the echo chamber of his thoughts. Even if it was the same album for the fifth time that day.

Crowley pulled the Bentley into one of the parallel parking spots, but just enough far forward that nobody could pull into the next spot. Not because he couldn’t drive, but because he could. That’s what he told everybody at least. He exited the car, and locked it with a snap of his fingers. He entered the apartment building in the same manner.

The keys to his flat were underneath the doormat. But what was the point in bending over when he could open the door with yet another snap of the fingers. The human spine was a travesty, and he wasn’t about to let back pain slow him down after six thousand years. What Crowley had not expected was to see Aziraphale on his couch, and he looked a little bit too comfortable. As if it hadn’t just been barely over a decade since the angel left him alone in the Bentley in Soho. And worst of all, he was watching Crowley’s television. Crowley didn’t speak, simply let the door close behind him and cleared his throat. He allowed himself the small pleasure of smirking at the angel scrambling to get to his feet and hit the power switch. Aziraphale kept his head down as he straightened his clothes.

“Enjoying ourselves, are we?”

Even in the dark, the flush on Aziraphale’s face was visible. Even more so that he could finally take off his sunglasses. Aziraphale sputtered and tried to put words together but none left his mouth. Crowley paid him no mind as he approached the black tarnished desk. Next to it sat his vinyl record player on a matching side table. A melancholy electronic melody á la Soft Cell played from it.

Aziraphale was still an embarrassed mess when Crowley turned back to him, his fingers twiddled away to release his anxiety.

“What brings you here?” Crowley asked. His tone of voice, however, said, “You still didn’t answer me.”

“Oh, nothing.” Aziraphale looked down at his loafers, then back up, but not all the way to Crowley’s face. Just the middle of his chest. Then Crowley saw the center of his gaze change; behind him, to the record player. “Isn’t that a bit anachronistic? For the type of music, I mean.”

Crowley shrugged. “So what?”

Aziraphale nodded in agreement. He couldn’t possibly argue with that. “Isn’t it a bit sad?” 

“What?” Crowley raised an eyebrow. “You’re saying something that sounds like ‘Everybody Wants to Rule the World’ isn’t equally as sad?”

Another good point.

Silence. It bit into them the same way Crowley bit into his lower lip. It wasn’t that neither of them had anything to say, but rather the opposite. There was so much that hung in the air between them and no clear starting point.

“So, do I have to ask again? What errand can I run for you?”

Aziraphale became defensive. “I told you, I’m not here for any favors.”

Crowley gave another raised brow look, but this one toed the line closer to disbelief. But he knew better; Aziraphale couldn’t lie to him. Or to anybody for that matter, he was an angel after all. But he was also so fucking clueless! Crowley could tell from his defensive state that Aziraphale knew Crowley was upset with him, but he couldn’t quite figure out why. It hadn’t even been twenty years yet, and somebody who spent his days singing praise of books had already forgotten the weight of his own words. Crowley puffed his cheeks into a pout and took Aziraphale’s place on the couch, legs spread and arms crossed. There was still a slight green halo around the television and he held back the urge to scream; because even for immortal beings, sometimes time just didn’t move quickly enough.

“Are you all right?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley scoffed. “Really?”

“‘Really,’ what?”

“ _ That’s _ why you’re here?”

“And what’s wrong with that?”

“I don’t need anybody,” Crowley grimaced for dramatic effect, “checking up on me.”

Aziraphale straightened up his posture and began to button his coat. “Fine. Guess I’ll be going then.”

“No!”

Ah, shit.

The truth was Crowley had waited for this moment ever since the night Aziraphale left him in the rain. He didn’t need to sleep (as much as he enjoyed it) so he had a lot of time to think about it, and he thought about it each day. He thought of several different scenarios, including one where Aziraphale never left at all and another where he stood sopping wet on Crowley’s doorstep. Not that he brooded over him. He brooded, of course, but of more important things. A demon had more pressing things to worry about than an angel’s affairs, he told himself. But no cold exterior could stop the images as they flittered in his mind’s eye. And flittered they did, so much so that he had flipped the tables on himself.

Rather than Aziraphale begging for forgiveness, it was Crowley who pleaded.

No. Please don’t go. Please don’t leave me again.

Crowley didn’t notice he had stood up from the couch. He must have jumped up when he cried out. But there he was, standing. More importantly his fist was balled in the front of Aziraphale’s shirt, bow tie included. Aziraphale wasn’t scared, but he was startled and his wide eyes met Crowley’s narrow ones.

Crowley’s legs shook from under him, and he prayed— no, he hoped— no one noticed. With an extraordinary amount of mental willpower, he removed his hand from Aziraphale’s clothes and shook it out. “Sorry,” he growled. But the fight was gone.

He limply turned around to go to another room, but Aziraphale grabbed his arm.

“Crowley.”

“Oh, what now?”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” Aziraphale turned him back around. He took in a deep breath, as if he were bracing himself. “I’m the one that should be sorry.”

Had Aziraphale not held him so tightly, Crowley would have fallen to the floor. 

“I should be,” there was a big ‘but’ coming,

“But I’m not.”

Crowley sneered. “Oh yeah? And why not?”

“You think I’m not aware of the reason you’ve had a stick up your ass this entire time?” Aziraphale’s voice was raised. “I will not equivocate on my opinion just because it’s not the answer you wanted to hear.”

“Why not? Because it’s the right thing to do?” Crowley’s tone was thick with mockery.

“You are not being fair. You didn’t give me a choice.”

“Ah, I see, this is my fault now.”

“No!” Aziraphale’s face turned red. He stopped and collected himself, the continued. “Please, just listen to me. I knew you were going to do the heist anyway—“

“What else was I supposed to do? You were going to leave me to my own devices!”

“I was not.”

“So why did you do it then,” Crowley implored, “why did you give it to me and then leave me alone?”

“For the same reason you wanted it!” Tears brimmed Aziraphale’s eyes but he’d be damned if any were to escape. “I knew you would be in danger if someone from your department were to see us, and in combination with the holy water you may as well sign your own death warrant.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “So what?”

Aziraphale was at the end of his patience. “What would I do if something happened to you? Especially if I had brought you the tools of your own destruction.” He looked Crowley in the eyes. “I couldn’t bear the thought of a world without you.”

“So you cut me off?” Crowley spat. “Did you consider what I wanted?”

Aziraphale’s shoulders sank. “I know. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but it wasn’t. And I’m sorry.”

This time it was Crowley who needed to collect himself. Now his whole body shook instead of just his legs. “It’s your turned to listen now, angel,” he snarled. It took considerable effort to hold back the urge not to grab his shirt again. “If you want to protect me so badly, you will stay right here. You hear me?” His body trembled like a leaf. He couldn’t remember the last time he laid himself bare like this. Whenever it was, Aziraphale was undoubtedly there.

Aziraphale didn’t say anything. Instead he leaned in and kissed Crowley on the lips, and it sent a wave of chills down his spine that calmed his nerves and pulled him closer.

Crowley, feeling relief for the first time in nearly twenty years, let himself drift away.

**Author's Note:**

> comments & kudos are appreciated! ♡
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/culmetisms).


End file.
